


That Ink-credible Feeling

by execution_empress



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/execution_empress/pseuds/execution_empress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha, a ballerina from the Bolshoi Company, finds herself curious about tattoos. Walking into a tattoo parlor and learning more awakens something inside of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! ♥
> 
> It's been a while, but I'm back! I'm writing a ballerina/tattoo artist Clintasha that turned out to be bigger than expected. The next chapter will be out soon. I hope you all enjoy!

Now there was a sight to behold; a ballerina outside of a tattoo parlor. The cool, New York air was nothing to the young, Russian woman. While everyone wore jackets and hoodies, she stood in her leotard and tights, wrapped in a chiffon skirt, with knitted boots on her feet. A messy bun rested on the back of her head. With her drawstring bag over her shoulder, she only waited another minute till she made her decision.

She opened the door and walked inside.

Stepping forward, a bell chimed as the door closed. Metals and colors and music quickly filled her senses. The parlor reeked of steel and sweat, accented by the crackling of the radio. Pictures of tattoos filled the walls while a case of piercings stood a good few feet in front of her. Behind the case she could see a one-eyed dog lift his head, then lower it back onto his bed as a voice called out from the back.

“Someone there, Lucky? Hey, I’ll be out in a few! Hold on, okay?”

As she was in no hurry, the woman went to examine the pictures on the wall. Example after example, from fonts and characters in various languages to symbols and flora and fauna. An impressive resume of artistic talent. Then there were people wearing the tattoos with a grin and a thumbs up. The canvas of skin decorated in a rainbow of inks. There was just something so lovely about that.

Fifteen minutes passed by and she never noticed. She was snapped from her thoughts when she saw a dark haired man and two blonde men leave the back room. The dark haired man had a sleeve of binary on his left arm and the blonde’s arm was a storm of watercolor, like he had been dipped in paint. Even with the clear bandages, what stood out on both was the dark haired man had color around his left ring finger while the blonde had dark 0’s and 1’s. 

“Looking good, looking good, if I do say so myself,” the other blonde said as he gave them a lopsided smile. 

“Of course it looks good. He’s got my numbers and I got his colors,” the brunette said, wrapping an arm around his lover’s waist. The blonde rolled his eyes, though he was smiling.

“You needed some color in your life,” he said, and it was the brunette’s turn to laugh.

“That’s why I have you.” He kissed his shocked husband while the tattoo artist chuckled.

“Well, congrats, you two. You know you guys can come back whenever.”

“Don’t we always? Who else keeps you open?” the brunette teased. The blonde was going to say something, but stopped as he noticed the redhead watching them.

“Looks like you got another customer. Tony, we should get going,” the blonde told his husband. Tony looked over at the ballerina and grinned.

“Right, right, but first-” He stopped as he stepped towards the woman and handed her a business card. “Tony Stark. Genius. Billionaire. Husband. Philanthropist. Fan of the arts. You got a gig, let me know. Maybe we can help each other out.” He winked at her while his husband rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Steve.”

As the two left, their conversation became distant. Did he really have to say all that? Oh, why not? He did change ‘playboy’ to ‘husband.’ It was all just chatter now. The tattoo artist turned to the young woman and gave her a polite smile. “Hey, sorry for the wait. I’m Clint. Did you need any help?”

Did she need help? That was quite an understatement. She took a quick glance at the wall, then back at him. Clint saw the way her eyes moved and beamed. “Tattoo virgin?” The glare she gave him made his eyebrows jump up. “I mean first time? Hey! It’s cool! I can help ya out. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!”

There was a moment of hesitation as her eyes looked him over. Messy, dirty blonde hair. Clear, honest blue eyes. A crooked grin. Violet hearing aids nestled in his ears. A colored wolf bearing arrows in his teeth was towards the nape of his neck. There were tattoo sleeves going down his well-toned arms. One side a man and the other a woman. Both were archers. One wore a chitoniskos and adorned himself with music, a hawk, and the sun, while the other wore a double girded chiton and surrounded herself with animals of the hunt, a deer and a boar, and the moon. His tank-top and pants covered his other tattoos, but she’s sure there’s more. The splashes of color on his chest told her so.

“What’s it like?” were the first words from her mouth. Seeing the confusion on his face, she licked her lips and rephrased the question. “What’s it like getting a tattoo? Does it hurt? What made you so sure you wanted one?”

“Well-” He paused for a name.

“Natasha.”

“Well, Natasha, it depends.” Scratching the back of his head, Natasha eases as she sees Clint is a bit more nervous than he let on. “I mean, yeah, it does hurt, but it depends where it is and how you handle pain. The rib was a bitch, but I’ve had worse.” Once he lifted his shirt, she could see a warrior, with two katanas at his back while he held a bow and arrow, wearing black and gold. “That’s a Ronin. Cool design, right?”

Natasha reached to touch, then pulled her hand back. Chuckling, Clint gave her a small nod. “It’s okay. You can touch.” Her cool hand grazed over his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He found himself swallowing hard and he didn’t know why. “See? Still feels the same. I use Tattoo Goo to keep the colors from fading, but squeezing the gel from Vitamin E gelcaps also works. That or lotion.” 

Her thumb rubbed over the design, feeling each bump of his rib cage. Tilting her head, she asked, “Why?”

“Huh? Why what?”

“Why did you want that tattoo? Or any tattoo, really?” She paused as she took her hand away. Clint adjusted his shirt again as he watched her struggle internally. “I mean, do you need a specific reason for a tattoo? Does it cover scars? What about regretting it?”

The way he smiles warmed something inside of her. They’re silly questions, but the way he replies is like he understands her hesitation. “Well, for lots of reasons. Some bring back good memories, others are like- well, getting a tattoo can be a rush. Y’know, like the pain feels good.” The slight hue on his cheeks make Natasha smirk just ever so slightly. “And yeah, they cover scars. The wolf on the back of my neck covers one. Do I regret it though?” He shook his head. “Nah. I mean, there’s always laser surgery to get rid of ‘em or having the ink covered with something else, but there’s no regret on my end. Just a bunch of memories and stories to tell. Like a reminder of where I am and how good that is, y’know?”

Watching him, Natasha couldn’t help but wonder about his past. With his tattoos, she was sure he had quite a story to tell. Was a tattoo artist just another storyteller, drawing your tale on your body with colorful inks and expressive images? Could she ever get something like that? She couldn’t. She was a ballerina, part of the Bolshoi, meant to look and be perfect. Her dancing was a way to express herself. What sort of ballerina had tattoos?

Oh, but there was something alluring about ink and marking her own body. Could she really do it? Watching her, the blonde artist had his own thoughts swirling in his head. He was sure it was her first time, but was there something else he could do for her? A piercing, perhaps? Or something else? He didn’t want her to leave. He had to think of a way to keep her there.

And oh, how glad he was for her to speak up first. “Would I be incapacitated if I was tattooed?” she asked. “I’d be able to do things normally, no matter where it was, right?”

“Oh, yeah! Definitely!” he replied. “You’ll feel sore, but it really depends on how you handle pain. Just keep the area clean and treat it well and you’ll be fine. Did you have an area in mind?”

“Nowhere in particular.” Her eyes betrayed her stoic stance. “Just bouncing around some ideas. I mean, if I did get a tattoo, I’d need it hidden. Something no one would really notice.” There was another pause. “Maybe something to cover a scar. Nothing too big. It’s just-”

“Come back tomorrow.” That surprised Natasha, but Clint had a big grin on his face. It looked like he had an idea. “If you can, around this time tomorrow. Give me ideas about what you want and wear something so we can easily get to the spot.” The redhead couldn’t help but bite her bottom lip, but Clint quickly put her at ease. “Don’t worry, I won’t tattoo you. We’ll go over designs and other methods. See if it’s what you really want.”

“Oh, well, that would be good. How much would I owe-”

“Nuh-uh. Not yet.” Tsking her, he couldn’t help but note how cute she looked when she glared at him. “We’ll talk money once we figure out what we’re doing. It’s your first tattoo, so it’s gotta be awesome. We’ll do all that first, then deal with money.” 

“All right.” Heading for the door, Natasha stopped and took one last look back at him. Clint, the tattoo artist. Covered in colors and inks. If ‘Resting Bitch Face’ was real, he certainly suffered from it. However, there was a warmth to him that most might not know. He didn’t pressure her into a tattoo and he didn’t try to sell her one. Rather, he was an honest man that let her have a choice. She could lie and not meet him again, but she didn’t want to do that. Something told her to come back. She wasn’t sure if it was a desire for change within herself or the curiosity of what he had in store. 

Either way, as he waved at her with a big grin, she waved back with a small smile on her own face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going back to the tattoo parlor, Natasha talks with Clint and finds more than she thought she would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! ♥ Apologies for the delay, but here's the next chapter! I'm glad to see people are enjoying it! It's starting to grow a bit bigger than I thought, but that's a good thing! That just means more to read. ;D I am tempted to put up references for the tattoos I'm describing, but if I do that'll happen next time.
> 
> Have fun with this chapter and I'll see you all next time! ♥

The next day she returned in leggings and a shirt, the same knitted boots and drawstring bag, another messy bun on top of her head. Black seemed to be her color. Entering the tattoo parlor, the bells chimed once again. The dog wasn’t alerted of it, but rather more interested in getting pets by his master, and Clint was very happy to oblige. Natasha walked in to coos of “Good boy,” and “Yeah, you’re awesome, aren’tcha?” She didn’t want to interrupt, so she stopped and watched with a faint smile. 

Clint, however, saw her enter from the corner of his eye. He stopped petting Lucky and looked over from his spot. “Hey! You’re back!” he said with a wide grin.

“Yep. I’m back,” she replied.

Standing up, he motioned for her to come closer. “C’mon, we’ll talk more back here. I got some great ideas! You’ll love ‘em!” 

She followed him to the back room where he performed his tattooing. While there was a mobile station where his machine and an array of inks were, that was pushed aside. There was another station next to the padded chair, one that he would be using it seemed. Paints, brushes, sharpie markers, a jac bottle, hairspray, and henna were lined up on top. Seeing what was prepared, Natasha raised an eyebrow and turned to Clint.

“Just what are you-”

“Well, hear me out,” he said, sitting down on a stool. She sat down on the chair. “I know it’s your first tattoo and I know you’re unsure, so I thought something temporary might be good. Like, start off with that and see how you like the design. We can also see if it’s best hidden there or not. If you really like it, I’ll tattoo it on you. If not, then at least it’ll wash off and we can try again.”

Staring at him in shock, all Natasha could do was reply with a nod. He really had put a lot of thought into it. Noticing the look on her face, Clint beamed. “I even did my research on henna. It’ll stay on for like ten days the most, so it’s really temporary. The paint will last until you wash it off and sharpies don’t last more than two days. Super temporary, but that’s the point.” He picked up a few of the markers and chuckled. “I even got some of the colored ones. I like the dark purple myself. That might be my next tattoo, something in this purple color.” 

Tilting her head, Natasha eyed the color, then looked back at him. Purple did seem to be his color. (At least, as far as she could tell from his hearing aids.) She wondered if she should reply or cut in at all, but that didn’t seem to be necessary. “Anyway,” he said, “where did you want your tattoo?”

Pulling her shirt up, Natasha exposed her stomach to him. Toned, mostly flat, with pale skin, she had a body that many would want. One could say she looked perfect, but then there was the mark. On the left side, closer to her pelvic bone, there was an ugly scar. Clint could see why she’d want something to cover it up. It must have made her self conscious.

“Guess that makes wearing a two-piece hard, doesn’t it?” he teased lightly.

With a smirk, she replied, “Bye bye bikinis.” Natasha chuckled, though he noticed it sounded sad and bitter. “Though I might reconsider if I have something nice to cover it up.”

“That’s what I’m here for!” Clint said, and quite proudly at that. “So, do you know what design you want?”

The smirk disappeared from her face. Replaced with a frown, she tried to think of something quickly, but shook her head. “No. Not really. I mean, there’s so many designs. What if I pick one I regret? Or what if it ends up looking stupid?”

“Well, that’s why we’ll start with these,” he replied, picking up a sharpie. His tone and smile softened, from proud to understanding. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll try whatever you like, however many times you like, and if you find something we’ll go with that. If not, you don’t always have to get a tattoo.”

She was surprised at that. “Aren’t you supposed to sell me on a tattoo,” she teased, though she was being honest. She thought he might try to convince her or be a bit more pushy. Besides being a tattoo artist, wasn’t he still a salesman? “Aren’t I wasting your time if I don’t end up getting anything?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s your body, so it’s your choice. I’m not going to force something just to make a buck. That’s not why I got started doing this.” 

“So why did you become a tattoo artist?” Sitting back in his chair, he scratched the back of his head. She wondered if he was nervous, as he did that once before. If he did it again, she would have her answer. “You don’t have to answer. It’s none of my business. I was just-”

“You were curious,” he finished. He really was quite understanding. “It’s fine. Just as long as I can ask you some questions too.” He was teasing, the goofy grin on his face said so, but Natasha didn’t mind. It was a fair trade.

“All right. Deal.” He wasn’t expecting that. The look of shock on his face was quite cute, or so she thought. “I’ll ask, you ask, and so on. At least until I think of something for you to draw. So, why a tattoo artist?”

“Why not?” A deadpan look was all he was given by the ballerina and it made his heart skip a beat. With a boyish grin, Clint shook his head and chuckled. “Well, I mean, after being discharged, I wasn’t sure what to do.” Her eyes flickered to his hearing aids briefly. “I wanted to create and do something with my hands, but I didn’t know what. Sam saw an artbook of mine and joked about wanting something I drew tattooed onto him. I don’t know why, but it hit me that _that_ was an idea. Like me, drawing on people. For a living! I could draw tattoos on people! I was low on funds, so Steve’s hus- well, then fiancee, helped me out, and here I am.”

Natasha nodded, satisfied by his answer. “You know you just raised quite a few questions with all that.”

“Yeah, but now it’s my turn,” he replied. “So, why a ballerina?”

It was Natasha’s turn to flounder for a minute. “Why not?” she countered with a sly smirk. Clint tried to give her the same deadpan look, but her lips stayed perfectly curled. “It’s what I grew up with. My parents got me into ballet and I had a talent for it. I was a principal in a few different companies before joining the Bolshoi. It’s the best of the best, but I’ve only been able to secure a soloist so far.” Her lips thinned as she glanced down. 

Clint tilted his head. “Principal?”

“Principal dancer,” she explained, her eyes returning up. “Prima ballerina. You know, like the lead role.” She then playfully tsked him. “That’s two questions, you know.”

“Hey, I was confused!”

“But the rules were we each ask one question. So now I get two.” Natasha chuckled and Clint wondered how she could sound so cute and sweet, yet hide it so well. “What were you discharged from? And why?”

“Military. I served with Steve and Sam and Rhodes. You saw Steve before, but the others might be around here from time to time. They visit a lot. Anyway, there was an incident and, well-” He tapped his hearing aids, confirming what she already suspected. “I became hard-of-hearing. These help, and I learned sign language, but I couldn’t go back. Sam and Steve finished their tours while I was rehabilitating and trying to figure out what to do next. Now I’m here. Sam works at the VA as a counselor and Steve helps run the place for him.” Clint shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. I know it’s not the most interesting story or anythin-”

“Don’t apologize. I asked and you answered. Thank you.” She didn’t seem to smile much, so when she did smile at him, Clint felt flattered. Her voice was warm and sincere and her eyes were understanding. His heart was pounding so hard and fast he was sure she could possibly hear it. “Now it’s your turn. Though you need to hurry. I just have more questions now.”

It had been a while since someone had taken quite an interest in Clint. The fact that it was from a beautiful woman just made his head swell. “I think I just heard one question. Faulty piece of crap,” he said, pointing at one of his hearing aids with a grin. “Hey, what can ya do? That’s Stark Tech for ya. So you get to ask again.”

“Lucky me,” she replied. Clint begged to differ, but he wasn’t going to say that out loud. “What was your first tattoo? Or your favorite?”

“First? That’s my archery tattoo.” He pulled his right pant leg up to reveal a black and white tattoo of a bow and three arrows. Around them were multiple circles, both full and dotted lined. “Guess you could say this is my favorite too. I love arrows. Even did it for a while in the circus, but I needed to do something else, y’know? Make some sort of future for myself. Hence the military.”

That made sense. She never would have guessed he lived quite an interesting life. Sure, she danced, but that wasn’t so interesting. She was creative, but not as creative as Clint. She glanced at his hands, watching as he seemed to talk with them. Now that he had mentioned archery, she could see his hands were calloused and rough. 

Noticing she was staring at his hands, Clint cleared his throat. Natasha’s eyes quickly focused on his face. “You okay? Something wrong?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a nod. “I just- you’re quite talented with your hands.” Clint wasn’t expecting to hear that, but it did make him laugh. Natasha smirked, glad he didn’t take any sort of offense. “You’ve done so much with them.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he replied with a wink. “I can make you very happy with my hands.” A beat passed between them. English wasn’t her first language, but Natasha knew the double entendre. Tilting her head, she wondered if she should say something, but she didn’t need to. His reaction said it all. His eyebrows shot up after a minute and he held his hands in front of himself. “Shit! No! Not like that! Sorry! I meant drawing! Tattoos! That sort of thing! Crap!”

Though his mistake wasn’t a bad thing. He slapped his face with a sigh, trying to hide his blush, and that made Natasha laugh. “So I guess you have a way with words too, huh?” 

“Guess I do… Especially if it makes a pretty girl like you smile.” 

It was Natasha’s turn for her eyebrows to quickly shoot up while Clint grinned. “Oh! That is smooth! That is smooth! Where did that come from?”

Giving himself a small knock on his head, Clint winked at her. “That’s the beauty of the Barton mind.” She shook her head, still chuckling, and he joined in. “That didn’t work? Thought it was better than ‘a broken clock is still right twice a day.’”

“All right, it is better than that,” she said. “You’re not broken though.” When he pointed at his hearing aids, she rolled her eyes. “Still not broken. If you want broken, you should see my toes.”

“Oh come on, I bet your toes aren’t that bad.” Taking it as a challenge, Natasha slipped the knitted boot off her sockless foot. Bandages covered a few of her toes, but there were still blisters and bruises. It left Clint almost speechless. “...Glad I didn’t bet any money.”

“Ballet’s hard on the feet. Especially _en pointe_. Getting used to it takes a while, but it still isn’t easy.”

“Guess I can kinda see why Bucky ain’t a fan of sandals or flipflops.” Sliding her foot back in the boot, Natasha looked at Clint with confusion. Noticing her glance, he explained, “Bucky used to be a dancer or something. He’s not a fan of wearing stuff revealing his feet. I’m working on a sleeve for him.”

“A sleeve?” Natasha tilted her head while Clint chuckled. He showed her his left arm, (his very well toned left arm, though she wouldn’t say so aloud), and the tattoos covering his skin. His whole arm was of a woman, the moon, a bow and arrow, and various arrows. Natasha remembered seeing the tattoo yesterday and the male counterpart on the other side. “Oh, is that Artemis?”

“You got it,” he beamed. “Not many people get it at first. Artemis on the left, Apollo on the right. A sleeve covers the whole arm, like a shirt sleeve. Bucky’s getting his to look like metal and it’ll go to his wrist. He’s crazy, but it fits him.”

A sleeve was very impressive. Natasha couldn’t even begin to imagine having one herself. Her arms, adorned with ink, telling a story or revealing something about her. Her heart leapt at the thought. She looked at his sleeves, trying to see if they said something about him, and quickly noticed a theme: Archery.

Perhaps she should start with a theme for herself.

“Hey, I think I thought of something to try.” Clint watched as she pulled a slipper from her bag, then pointed to the scar on her stomach. “What about a ballet slipper? Can we do it in sharpie? I’m not sure how it’ll look and I don’t know if I want a slipper there, but I would like to give it a try.”

Taking the delicate shoe, he placed it on the cart and took a few markers. “A slipper it is! Want it colored or just in black so far? What about the ribbon part? Want any shape or anything spelled out?”

Either he really had a creative mind ready to work or she didn’t think of everything. She preferred thinking of it as the former. She didn’t think of the ribbon or having anything spelled. Shaking her head, she answered, “In black, please. As for the ribbon, I’ll leave it to your discretion. You are the artist, after all.”

“Not sure if you’re trying to flatter me or put pressure on me,” he teased, chuckling as she laid back.

“Now now, why would I put pressure on you?” Just as he started to work, she added, “Though, I’m not sure why I would flatter you.” He stopped, trying that deadpan look again, and it made her chuckle. Smiling, he took note that it was worth responding that way just to hear her chuckle.

“Didn’t know you liked to joke around.” She didn’t either. She was usually more reserved than casual. She wasn’t one to tease or be as humorous, but then again she was usually around ballerinas as serious and competitive as her. Was it his easy-going attitude or his friendly personality that brought this out? 

She didn’t have long to think. Clint was done in twenty minutes. When he finished, he sat back and watched her for a moment, until she realized he was done. As she raised an eyebrow, he smiled at her.

“...You’re a weird one, aren’t you?” she asked. That had him laughing.

“Well, yeah, but I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“From what?”

“Thoughts? I don’t know. Maybe you had a good thought. Not gonna interrupt it when the ink’s still drying.” She had almost forgotten what he had done. Sitting up, she looked around until he pointed to a mirror and said, “Go take a look and tell me what you think.”

She practically bounced off the seat and lifted her shirt. She had to admit, the ballet slipper was perfectly done and the ribbon was folded into a heart, but it didn’t look right. She tried another pose and looked at it from another angle, but it wasn’t right. It looked strange right at her stomach.

“I like the design, really I do,” she started, hesitating a moment as she caught his eyes in the mirror. “I’m just- I don’t know-”

“Not the right place?” he finished. She nodded. “Not surprised. Kinda had that thought while drawing. I usually do slippers or hobbies on like wrists or ankles or backs.”

With a soft sigh, she let go of her shirt and fixed her appearance. “I need to think of something else.”

“Well, you got time. That’s why I suggested sharpies and all that. At least it’s not permanent.” His smile was infectious and had her cracking a small smirk.

“Guess it’s just another reason to visit you, huh?” she said. She could have sworn his smile grew as he nodded. “Hey! I think that’s just more of a reason for me to spend money, huh? Speaking of, how much do I owe you for today?”

Turning back, she saw the smile was gone. Clint appeared to be lost in thought, but something didn’t seem right. It was like a switch went off in him. His eyes catching hers, he shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything. Not until we start tattooing.”

“Nothing?” That surprised her. It also didn’t seem right. “Come on, you took time out of your day and schedule to help me. And you’re offering to do it again. How much do I owe?” 

It took a minute for Clint to think of something, but when he did he was sure it was his best idea yet. Or best joke yet. “Coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Or pizza. Like next time you come to the shop, bring me a large cup of coffee. Either black or with whipped cream and caramel on top. Or a large cheese pizza and some sodas for us.” Natasha was expecting to spend money, but to bring in food and drink? Not hearing a response, he quickly added, “I was kidding. Like I said, you don’t owe me anything until I start tattooing you.”

And that would be that, Clint thought. He still wanted her to have a good first tattoo. He didn’t want to cheapen it or have it all be about money. That wasn’t why he became a tattoo artist. He wanted to make people happy. Seeing her smile, actually smile and chuckle, was enough for him. After cleaning up and bidding one another goodbye, Natasha left and Clint went to take care of another customer.

He wasn’t expecting her to return the next day, the sharpie scrubbed off ready for another try. He also didn’t expect her to show up with two large cups of coffee and a cinnamon roll for them to share.


End file.
